


Honey, Don't Feed It

by ShinyGreenApple



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Canon Divergence, Conflicted Sex, Denial of Feelings, Emotional Constipation, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Gingerrose - Freeform, Hux is Confused, Internal Conflict
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:02:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25928581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShinyGreenApple/pseuds/ShinyGreenApple
Summary: An unexpected tryst has left Rose Tico and Armitage Hux wanting more of each other, in spite of their glaring differences. But is it really a good idea to play with fire twice?
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Rose Tico
Comments: 17
Kudos: 64





	Honey, Don't Feed It

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to [The Devil Made Me Do It](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24241933)
> 
> Sequels almost never live up to the original, so I hope I've done it justice ^_^
> 
> Theme and title inspired by Hozier - [It Will Come Back](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WtOVP3_Y5tA)

It had been nearly a week since their tryst in the refresher, and try as they might have to ignore it, the desire for an encore had bubbled below the surface for both of them. It made their assignments together agony, as it was almost never just the two of them. Hux inwardly cursed whoever else might have been partnered with them, wishing them and their eternal kin nothing but misery, while at the same time knowing it was probably stopping him from doing something that might be … regrettable.

Rose had mixed feelings as well – she absolutely loved the control she had over him (Poe had assigned him to be her assistant, given their shared expertise), but maybe she enjoyed it a little _too_ much. As her assistant, he was essentially her shadow, there with her before everyone else, and at her side long after everyone else had gone.

So why, for the love of all that was decent, was she not thoroughly sick of him by end of day?

She glanced at the beaten up chronometer on the wall of her workshop and sighed impatiently. The heat today was unbearable and she decided she would call it quits early for once, after a few finishing touches on their current project and then a quick clean up. She brushed a damp lock of hair away from her face, sweat plastering it into place behind her ear, before quickly unbuttoning her top and stripping it off.

Hux frowned as she tossed it onto an empty workbench. “ _Really_ , Tico? So unprofessional.”

“You’re free to do the same, ya know. It’s hotter than a barbecue on Tattooine in here.”

“Indecent,” he frowned deeper, his cheeks going pink.

Realization dawned on her, and she broke into a cheeky grin. “So _that’s_ it, then?” she laughed softly. “You’re really prudish, considering. And I _have_ an undershirt on, geez.”

“That’s not the point,” came his stilted reply.

“You’re a big boy, Hux, all grown up, I’ve seen you cut up your own food and everything.” She gestured casually at her sweat-soaked tank top. “This bothers you? Deal with it.”

He whirled round to face her properly, something uncomfortably thrilling lurking behind his signature sneer as his gazed bored down into her eyes. “Oh, I plan to. The question is, will you be joining me?”

He fully expected to be on the receiving end of another slap, but it never came. He tore his eyes away from hers, only to let them drift down to the wet fabric clinging to her in all of the right places, surprised when he found himself just as mesmerized by her tan, work-toned arms as the ample flesh of her chest. In another life not so long ago, he would have been revolted by the smell of sweat and dirt and engine grease that clung to her, but found it almost intoxicating now.

Rose managed to muster a convincing expression of disgust at his suggestion, which was impressive given that a part of her that she normally kept tucked deep down was screaming for her to accept his invitation, however out of line it may have been. She avoided his gaze now, instead fixating on the milky skin of his neck, currently blemished with dirt and grime that trickled down the curve of his throat in a sheen of sweat, disappearing below the collar of his shirt. His bizarre commitment to uniform, even now that it bore the starbird of the Rebel Alliance, had only allowed him to loosen the very first button. She wondered if that was why he was so uptight all the time, she certainly would have been. She also wondered what it would be like to loosen the buttons herself, what she would find beneath the unflattering khaki once it was peeled away from his shoulders.

‘ _Dammit, Rose, stop it!’_ she inwardly scolded herself. Right. She pulled herself together as best she could, managing an impressively cold glare.

“Is this how the First Order taught its soldiers to behave around a superior officer?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper, calm and deadly.

Against his will, his lips pulled into a wolfish smile. “We’re not in the First Order, now, are we?”

‘ _No, no, idiot!’_ He knew he should stop, pangs of residual shame over what they had done against that refresher wall had only just begun to leave him in peace. And yet . . . his betrayal of Ren and the part he played in setting his empire up in flames had awakened something wild and reckless in him. The thrill of sending that first transmission as traitor and spy had been heady and as it turned out, completely addicting. The thrill he felt now when pushing his boundaries with Commander Tico was delightfully similar.

“And if I may add,” he went on, letting his eyes rake greedily over her from head to toe now, lingering in places that he was certain caused her to flush, “the few superiors I served under in the past few years had a distinct lack of your particular – _charms_.” He ever so lightly traced a single fingertip over the curve of her hips, carefully studying her face for a reaction. _‘Tread carefully’._ He withdrew his touch slowly, however much he might have longed to snatch her up again, to grab handfuls of the flesh on her backside, to have those thighs wrapped around him again.

Rose remained stony-faced, hoping his height wouldn’t let him see the way she swallowed hard now. Who knew such an insufferable ponce was so talented at seductive tactics? Granted, she had not helped matters by using a crop on him that day; simply confiscating it when she found it on his person would have been enough. How was she supposed to have known _that_ would happen? The day’s tasks lurked in the far corners of her mind and she knew it would be fruitless to attempt anything else productive tonight.

“Help me lock up, then go take a shower. A cold one.”

“Wicked girl,” he frowned. “And cruel, making me deal with this all alone.” He was angry at himself with how disappointed he had been just now.

“Am I? All I did was tell you to take a shower,” she smirked, shutting off the lights and heading for the door. “You’re filthy. We both are.”

“I certainly hope so,” he murmured, now a tall silhouette in the darkening workshop, the only light that of the failing sun weakly streaming in, glinting off of his teeth and the whites of his eyes.

* * *

“ _Don’t feed it, Rosie, it’ll never leave if you do.”_

“ _But it looks so sad and hungry.”_

The creature lurking outside her childhood home was indeed scrawny, with a long, lizard-like body and legs and a distinctly feline face. It was covered with silky fur everywhere except for its scaly ears and whip-like tail. It would take a person like Rose to take pity on it. She never learned the proper name for them – her family had always just called them ‘snake-cats’.

“ _They’re always hungry,”_ Paige had replied gently, taking her sister into her arms and dragging her away from the kitchen window and the creature outside who scratched at their door. _“And they’re mean. It’s pointless to show kindness to a creature like that, it’ll only tear you to shreds and move on.”_

That had been years ago, though it felt like so much longer, and she now dwelt in a small bungalow on Ajan Kloss, where Armitage Hux stood waiting on the other side of her door with doubtlessly unwholesome intentions and she was all too eager to open up to him. He wore a clean set of clothes, though his khaki shirt remained open now, a clean undershirt beneath. He smelled faintly of soap and laundry detergent, the scent of his cologne no more than a memory, yet the current softness of him was as potent as whatever luxuries he had left behind, somehow putting them evermore on even ground with one another now.

“You wasted your time with this,” she nodded at his shirt, tugging one corner of the collar teasingly before standing on her toes and slipping her hands beneath it, pushing it from his shoulders the way she had ached to do earlier.

“Would it really do for me to be strolling as casual as you please up to your door, half-naked?” he asked, placing his hands atop hers where they rested against his chest.

“You’re _such_ a goody-goody,” she rolled her eyes. You are not anywhere near close to naked.”

He raised his eyebrows, taking in the sight of her. “Nowhere near as close as you, anyways.”

She wore a pair of soft, stretchy knit shorts now in place of the sturdy cargo pants that she had almost exclusively sported. The sweaty, soiled tank top from earlier had been replaced with a clean one; while it lacked the transparency of before, it still clung in all the right places and exposed just enough to make him want a little bit more.

“True,” she muttered. “If you don’t like it, you can always leave.”

“Like hell I will,” he growled.

And suddenly, she was lifted into his arms, held high enough that she was looking down at him, catching a glimpse of his blown pupils for an instant before his lips were at her neck and her hands were in his hair, urging him to go lower. His hands gripped her thighs, a low growl of satisfaction escaping him when she wrapped them around him, ankles crossed behind his back.

She tightened the grasp on his hair, yanking his head back roughly and dipping down to kiss him, rough and possessive, licking into his mouth with barely subdued desperation. He opened up willingly, content to let her have her way for several very satisfying moments before drawing one hand back and slapping her on the backside with no warning, grinning at the way she squealed in surprise and flinched in his grasp.

“One good turn deserves another, hmm?” he purred, grinning lasciviously. He pulled her down for a quick, sloppy kiss. “Just wait until I get my crop back.”

“You won’t get it back. Not tonight, anyways”, she laughed, stroking his cheek softly.

He closed his eyes, leaning into her touch for a split second before startling at the tenderness of it. He quickly regained his senses, eyes snapping open, turning to playfully nip at her hand instead and catching a finger in his teeth ever so gently.

“Then what is it that I’m getting tonight, exactly? We never discussed terms, you were very vague, you know.”

“What was it that crossed your filthy little mind earlier when you got all hot and bothered?”

He grew unexpectedly and abruptly sober, loosening his hold on her and letting her slide back to her feet. “We can’t do that.”

“Why not?” she asked, taken aback and looking slightly hurt. It bothered him how guilty the look on her face made him feel.

“I’ve committed enough sins for a hundred lifetimes, Tico. I won’t add putting a bastard in your belly to my list of failures and wrongdoings.”

“Do you _really_ think I’m that stupid and reckless, Hux? Don’t answer that,” she added quickly, giving him a little scowl.

“Apologies for being presumptuous.” He smiled reluctantly – her scowl was more charming than her sweet smiles. Not that he cared for sweet in the first place. “But you _have_ been known to be reckless in the past.”

“Look who’s talking,” she smiled. “So . . .” she took him by the hand and tugged, her eyes going to the open door of her bedroom. “Think we can stand to do something stupid _together_ for a change?”

He gave her a rare, genuine smile, although she was still all too aware of the darkness and danger that hid behind it. It was _thrilling_ , and his hands were on her again, this time freely exploring with abandon and without shame.

He wondered vaguely if he would be plagued with regret immediately after like last time, but at the moment, he really couldn’t give a damn. It seemed much more important to ruck up her shirt and yank it off, giving him an eyeful of what had distracted him so badly this afternoon.

“And you talk about _me_ wasting time,” he purred, slipping his fingers under the straps of her bra.

“Better get to work, then,” she replied, her hands going to his fly even as he reached behind her to undo the clasps.

She was by no means innocent, but the feral growl he gave as he took in the sight of her bare breasts awakened things in her that she had not known were there, and suddenly she felt like prey that was all too willing to be eaten.

“I definitely should have kept you when you infiltrated the _Supremacy,_ ” he growled, pale eyes dark with want.

“You’re depraved,” she hissed, failing to put much venom behind her words as she tugged his pants down. Swallowing hard, she looked up at him. “What would you have done?”

“Have you sent to my quarters,” he replied, peeling his undershirt off and tossing it aside as he stalked towards her, forcing her backwards. “Taken that ridiculous Major’s uniform off of you piece by piece.” He kept walking until they had crossed the threshold into the bedroom. “And whatever else you might have had on under it.”

She felt the back of her legs hit the edge of the bed and had no choice but to fall onto it with a little stumble, unable to concentrate on much besides the unnervingly tall man that she had invited in as he continued to close in on her. He traced the curve of her hips again, licking his lips as he dipped his fingers into the waistband of her shorts and tugged them off in one fluid movement.

“And then what?” she asked, breathless with anticipation and a touch of nerves. It had been so long since someone had touched her, and he was _so_ dangerous.

“Hush, let me look at you,” his voice lowered to a whisper and his hands were on her thighs, his eyes greedily taking in the sight of something he would have found repulsive not so long ago, based simply on the fact that they belonged to opposing forces. “There’s something to be said for the women of the Resistance, after all, I suppose,” he smirked up at her. “I take back what I said earlier, it’s a shame you keep all this hidden under those unflattering jumpsuits and depressing brown uniforms.”

“I asked you a question,” she said insistently, that same, unsettling smile on her lips. It was too easily summoned and he was certain he did not deserve it in the least.

“It’s not a simple answer, could take a while.” He managed to tear his gaze away from her breasts and glance up at her almost roguishly. It was a pleasing enough expression on someone not almost completely loathsome, but seeing it on his arrogant, normally icy face was a different drug entirely.

She bit her lip, glancing away from him for a moment, somehow utterly unbothered for someone sitting naked in front of a once formidable adversary. She dragged her gaze back to him, her expression nothing short of impish.

“We have all night.”

When she would recall that night days and weeks and even years later, the only term that seemed appropriate for what he immediately did after was _pounce_. With his deceptively slim build and the fact that he had not seen actual battle for so many years, it was easy to forget that he was a fully trained soldier, complete with strength and stamina and all of the physical attributes that war demanded. Combined with sexual aggression and well . . . the result was not unpleasant, to put it lightly.

How long they had scuffled and rolled around and had not quite faux struggles for dominance was anyone’s guess, but at some pleasant point she found herself keening with abandon, legs locked around him and wordlessly encouraging him to press into her. The portion of her brain that produced common sense had mostly shut down and it didn’t take much effort for her to tamp down it’s whispered disapproval; the stretch of him steadily easing into her body was both a distraction and a reminder of the reprehensibility of what they were doing. She closed her eyes, one hand death-gripped around a handful of bedsheets. He was nearly in to the hilt when he roughly cupped her face in his own hand. He had such large hands.

“Look at me,” he growled. “Look at me when I’m fucking you.”

She had briefly considered her tactic from their last encounter, trying desperately to forget who he was, not wanting to admit that _Armitage Hux_ was gifting her the best sexual experience she had ever had in her life. Even if he had not insisted on her opening her eyes, the delusion would not have worked, and as she stared into those cold, predatory eyes while he bottomed out with a groan, she realized with a cold thrill that him being _him_ is what made this so goddamn irresistible. She tugged against him with her legs, a gesture somewhere between defiance and unfettered want.

He, on the other hand, had entertained no similar delusions whatsoever, and was only goaded on by her insistence on him recreating some twisted fantasy about holding her aboard his ship. For a few hours, he was General Hux again, this time without a master that he hated holding his leash. The repulsion he once held for this little rebel was all but gone, and yet it was still exhilarating to have her so thoroughly, to claim a prize he did not know he had ever wanted. Nothing could have prepared him for the look in her eyes when he rolled his hips against her, searching out a tentative, lazy rhythm. When she matched him beat for beat, it occurred to him that maybe, just maybe, they were equals. He had suggested it himself only days ago when she had whipped his backside raw. Why was his own idea suddenly so bothersome, so intrusive, he wondered vaguely. She held his gaze as he had demanded, hands roaming his back and shoulders freely, her small fingers now and again coming to rest on the back of his neck, unsettlingly gentle.

Why had he insisted on eye contact? He dipped his head down to kiss her, a pleasant distraction from his intrusive self-criticism. She combed her fingers through his hair, softly now, instead of the usual attempts to part it from his scalp, and somehow it burned even worse, and he could not now bring himself to bite at her lips and invade her as if he were conquering a planet. A slow opening and closing of mouths and tentative touch of tongues was far more effective at fueling their tryst. He wouldn’t last much longer at this rate.

Pulling back, he forced his eyes open and she grinned up at him, almost gleefully. She pulled him down again, not for a kiss, but to press their foreheads together. He closed his eyes, wincing and thrusting his hips against her harshly and causing them both to cry out.

“Hux,” she panted, kissing his bottom lip – “fuck, you’re fun.”

“And you . . .” he trailed off lamely.

“So much for your flattery,” she laughed.

“I’m _busy_ ,” he sneered, moving hard against her before suddenly slowing.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, stroking a few strands of hair away from his face.

He pulled out, leaning back on his haunches and breathing heavily. His hair was a mess, lips swollen and eyes hooded with lust. She watched him watching her, eyes now and again going to his cock, standing at attention and twitching against his belly.

“Turn over,” he ordered.

“I thought you wanted me to look at you,” she taunted, slowly doing as he asked, hips thrust toward him in shameless invitation. She gasped when she felt his hand on the back of her neck, forcing her gently but irresistibly down against a pillow.

“And I thought,” he murmured, lips at her ear, “that you wanted to know what I would have done to you on _Supremacy_.”

“Fine,” she smiled.

_Always smiling._

“Good girl,” he purred, even as he barely dodged her nipping at him, teeth snapping threateningly. He nudged her legs apart, sliding back into the slick hotness with ease. He did not enjoy holding her down as much as he had counted on, but at least he was free of that penetrative, enigmatic gaze. He let go of her neck after just a few moments, smiling when he was rewarded with her rocking back against him, yet again matching his rhythm almost perfectly.

Never had she been taken quite so aggressively; an encounter such as this had only existed in her mind on long nights when she could not sleep and distracted herself with fantasies of some faceless man doing unspeakably filthy things to her while she took pleasure from her own body. She tensed now at the feeling of a hand on her ass cheek, knowing without a doubt what was about to –

“OW!” she bellowed, with far more hostility than she had meant to, but that slap had _hurt,_ dammit. She knew he was smiling without looking at him. “Asshole.”

“Recompense, Sweetling,” he chuckled, leaning down to kiss a trail from tailbone to nape and unceremoniously driving into her again, fingers digging bruises into her hips with every stroke, jerking her back against him with increasing aggression, almost managing to lose himself into his deluded fantasy of being his old self once more when it happened again.

She turned to look at him, shoulders quivering with pleasure as he rocked into her over and over, the glint in her eyes and precise curve of her lips insinuating everything in a single glance, without words. One word, in fact, was all it conveyed, and try as he had to avoid it, there it was just the same.

_Mine._

He sneered, slamming into her heat a few more times, almost lazily, and then pulled out, flopping onto his back and pulling her atop him. _‘So be it.’_

“Never took you for the submissive type,” she cooed.

“Don’t play at being obtuse, it’s very unattractive.”

“Yeah, I can tell how unattractive you find me, it’s obvious,” she smirked, straddling his hips and sinking down onto him. It was almost alarming how easily they fit together.

“I’m tired,” he replied impudently. “And I want to see your tits bounce,” he sniffed.

“Such language out of that pompous, pretty little mouth of yours. I would have never imagined.”

He grasped at her hips impatiently. “ _Move._ ”

It was almost a relief to just let her take what she wanted, and he had been being truthful about wanting to see her ample breasts bounce, fascinated with how something could be so erotic and yet so adorable at the same time. Her face was just as captivating, the way it gradually changed from haughty to intense to pure desperation as she rolled against him, coming undone just a little bit more every second until release took her at last. He lay helpless against his own climax while she rode out the aftershocks, shuddering atop him, breath coming and going in harsh, ragged gasps, her slick walls clenching around him as he spilled into her with a guttural groan.

He did not stop her when she climbed off and lay against him, but let her huddle against his side with one arm across his chest, convulsions of pleasure still sporadically coursing through her.

“Stars, are you quite all right?” he asked when she shuddered against him yet again. She nodded hastily, pressing a finger to his lips. He took the hint, and for once in their short time knowing each other, they remained quiet in lieu of hostility thinly veiled behind biting sarcasm or personal insults. It felt like ages before his heart stopped slamming and resumed a resting pace, and once lucidity had pulled him out of his spent and sated state, he glanced down at her. Her eyes were closed, lips barely parted and breaths quiet now, though still shallow enough to give away that she was not asleep. He had nearly begun to smooth her hair out of its disarrayed state when he pulled his hand back as if burned. He furrowed his brows, letting his head fall back against her pillow with a heavy sigh, squeezing his eyes shut in confusion.

He awoke a short while later, senses on edge when he realized he had let himself drift off in Tico’s bed. It somehow bothered him far more than the fact they had fucked each other half senseless, and he was suddenly desperate to remove himself from the situation. Last time, he had felt an overwhelming sense of shame, standing in that refresher with his cock hanging out of his pants, fingers wet with slick, and the evidence of what they had done smeared all over the front of her shirt. It was absent now, but he was still wracked with the desire to get far away, frightened at his lack of remorse for what had happened. She was turned away from him now and he frowned at her, curled up tightly with her back barely pressed against him. Stars, had she always been so small?

He swallowed hard, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed, making no efforts to be stealthy. He had nearly managed to get onto his feet when he froze; her fingers closed lazily around his wrist.

“Stay?”

_Fuck_.

* * *

“ _Oh, Rosie, you didn’t!”_

“ _Didn’t what?”_ she had asked, feigning ignorance.

“ _You fed that thing after we told you I don’t know how many times not to!”_

“ _Did not!”_ she had never been a very good liar.

“ _Then why is it lurking out on the porch, watching_ your _every move? Dad’s gonna have to get rid of it now.”_

“ _He was hungry, and he doesn’t scratch or bite me,”_ she had cried, tugging at Paige’s shirt. _“He’s my friend. Please don’t tell Dad, I don’t want Obi to get hurt.”_

“ _You_ named _it?!”_

Rose often wondered in the years that followed what had ever happened to Obi the snake-cat. Common sense told her that he more than likely perished by some First Order weapon when they had made their merciless attack on her homeworld, but she liked to think that he managed to slink away, or that he resided in what was left of her childhood home, proudly claiming it as his own domain. Maybe he had found a mate and raised a whole little family of ugly little Obis. Despite her sister’s warnings, he had never ‘shredded’ her. Maybe she had a way with animals, or maybe she was incredibly lucky.

She smiled to herself, even laughing a little now. It had been so long since he had crossed her mind, and she took him popping into her thoughts now as a sign, perhaps, that life was beginning to be as normal for her as it ever had been. The war was over and her misfit little family had all settled into a comfortable routine on the jungle planet, with a few odd additions. She took to Ben Solo almost immediately, feeling an immense amount of sympathy for him in place of the mistrust that most held instead. He reminded her of Leia, and sometimes he would do or say something that was so undeniably _Leia-like_ that she would have to remove herself from the room or give into the urge to get teary or smother him in hugs.

It was late into the night, and she figured it best to head to bed; she had an especially early day ahead of her tomorrow. There was so much to be done still. She quickly wiped down the counter of her tiny kitchen and shut off the lights, and had just double checked that the door was locked before heading for her bedroom when there was a soft knock.

She _knew_ and yet was still unprepared for what waited outside. When she pulled the door open, Armitage Hux stood on the threshold.

Watching her every move.

**Author's Note:**

> Since he's up to getting whipped and constantly picking Rose up/engaging in acts of debauchery, it's safe to say Hux was never on the receiving end of blaster fire in this story. We'll just assume he begged Poe and Finn to let him come with them on the Falcon like he should have done in the first place because no one wants to risk dying like that.


End file.
